When a new semester of grad school approaches I disappear into my dark place. A place where no light pierces the inky blackness, which is a metaphor for stress.
I’ve been doing a pretty good job of getting ahead on the readings while I’m not getting bogged down with endless papers and crap. I found some good people to be in “inquiry groups” with this semester (which is apparently a requirement for both classes, oddly), so I’m feeling good about that.
Still, school is shitty because it never ends. There’s always something you should be doing, a forum to post on, an article to read, a paper to outline/write. There’s only a week between this semester and the next, then there’s a three month break because, y’know, they felt like fucking with our schedules or whatever.
But I’m only complaining because it’s inconsistent, and nobody likes change. The one thing in this program I can count on, though, is the confusion. On behalf of everyone. All the time. The professors are confused about the syllabi because they didn’t write them, so they can’t explain them to the students. The students are confused because they don’t get clear instruction from the (confused) professors. The education department is confused because no one seems to know who did write the fucking syllabus for whatever class you said you were in, so maybe try calling back later?
One professor (who was changed a few days before the class began) wrote us three emails in the first week, all within ten minutes of each other, essentially saying:
1) Hey guys, take a look at this outline from class last week.
2) Subject: “Oops!” Wrong class, my bad!
3) Subject: “Yikes!” Jkjk, that was meant for you guys. “Carry on!”
Tonight I got an email from her with the subject “READ THIS PLEASE!” It went on to outline deadlines for assignments that were vaguely gone over in class, and let us all know that a bunch of us had already lost points for not doing shit we didn’t know we were supposed to do. When my world is being turned upside down, this is the consistency I know I can depend on. Thank the FSM for small miracles.
I would bail out if I weren’t already two semesters in. Plus, I want my damn master’s degree. My idea of my adult self has included getting a higher education degree for so long, it would be weird not to have one. Not to mention the added benefit of better job opportunities in the future (PLEASE KTHXBAI).